


When the battlefield ran red

by Booker_DeShit



Series: Down Below [1]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Developing Relationship, Fights, First Meetings, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Inspired by Fanfiction, Minor Character Death, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Slash, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booker_DeShit/pseuds/Booker_DeShit
Summary: Jack comes across a beautiful stranger when going through Neptune's Bounty, who he's immediately smitten with. This is how Jack met Booker in the Down Below verse.
Relationships: Atlas & Jack (BioShock), Implied/Referenced Atlas/Jack (BioShock)
Series: Down Below [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044000
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	When the battlefield ran red

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fathoms of Depravity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516814) by [CynicalLion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalLion/pseuds/CynicalLion). 
  * Inspired by [Fathoms of Depravity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516814) by [CynicalLion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalLion/pseuds/CynicalLion). 



> So, lately I read this amazing fic called Fathoms of Depravity by CynicalLion & I absolutely love it. It's just so fucked up, but in a good way, in a very fun way. & cause I'm absolutely a slut for anything Jack/Booker (which is a hella underrated ship) I decided to write a lil series that's also just lots of fighting & sex between these two cause why the fuck not. I need to satisfy my craving somehow, + this is great practice.

Neptune’s Bounty. The secret birthplace of Fontaine Futuristics, & a front for all of the man’s crimelord tendencies. It was a dank hole that stank of fish guts & sea water even as far as the rumble-covered bathysphere port, half drowned to the point that Jack’s shoes were soaked through almost the moment he stepped foot in the Lower Wharf. Despite the gentle, blue light filtering through the massive windows into the ocean at his left, the ethereal glow gave Jack no comfort. The mess of plywood & steel sheets making up the ‘docks’ of Bounty creaked & squealed under each of Jack’s steps, & the sheet metal walls groaned with promises of collapsing sooner rather than later. Oh, & did I mention about how much it _stank?_

The worst parts of Neptune’s Bounty seemed to outnumber any positives, as seldom as those were to find. Even Atlas seemed less than glad about the current situation, his voice having taken on a disgusted distaste beneath the static as Jack found his way over to Peach Wilkins. Jack wouldn’t consider himself an idiot, far from. His confusion about his surroundings couldn’t easily be mistaken for a lack of common sense, & so the moment Wilkins opened his mouth, his small, ratty eyes peering through the little slit in the heavy iron door, Jack knew that something was up. He said nothing about it, knowing that despite the frankly annoying errand he was being forced to run, it was important that he dealt with it fast, & met up with Atlas. Yet there was a nagging at the back of his mind, a little voice telling him that Wilkins wasn’t to be trusted. 

“Grown man jumpin’ at ghosts!” Atlas huffed over the radio, speaking almost what Jack was thinking. A grown man scared of his own shadow, on the lookout for the ghost of a dead man, a bogeyman hiding between the crates & piles of rotting fish. Quite ridiculous, even if Jack knew that this Fontaine had quite the reputation, & no less annoying.

Just as Jack was ready to head out & search for the camera, Wilkins called out to him again, his voice already grating on Jack’s nerves, “A...a...and do be careful at th...th...the tavern! I’d hate to s...see...see our partnership cut short.” Then he was gone again, & Jack was left alone once more in the half-light of Neptune’s Bounty, his only company being the dead fish & the gentle pitter pattering of the water from the ceiling. 

A wave of calm washed over him at hearing the pleasant, familiar drawl of Atlas’s voice call out over the radio, “Whot the hell did ‘e mean with that?” Jack shook his head, asking himself the same thing. What sort of horrors lay hidden at the tavern that Wilkins would warn Jack of all people about it? Jack, who didn’t break a sweat as he smashed through dozens of splicers at a time, who wielded a wrench like it was a warhammer, with aim that could only be described at _perfect._ And here he was, being warned about something so monstrous that even he had a chance to fall to its might. Unless, of course, old Peachy was just going mad with age, & there was absolutely nothing to be scared of. That did seem like it was more likely. 

As Jack traversed the halls of Neptune’s Bounty, getting those ‘snappy snaps’ for Wilkins, the mention of _something_ hiding out at the Fighting McDonagh’s tavern wouldn’t leave his mind. Even the occasional assurances from Atlas did nothing for him, his friend’s calming voice doing nothing to stave away... This feeling, Jack wouldn’t quite call it fear. He couldn’t remember feeling any true fear since coming to Rapture, not when first coming face to face with a splicer, or first seeing a Big Daddy up close, or even when he first met with Ryan. No, this was more of a pervasive curiosity, a little pin on the map that was his brain, an unwelcome reminder left there by someone who just wanted to get on Jack’s _nerves,_ & now Jack was unable to get rid of it. He was curious about the creature he would meet in the tavern, & that curiosity wouldn’t be sated by anything; except meeting the beast.

“Atlas?”

Jack could hear the grin in Atlas’ voice as the mysterious man spoke up, “Yes, boyo?” There was something to the quality of Atlas’ voice, the low tone, the thick accent, the slight static from the radio, that always sent shivers down Jack’s spine. And when he could hear the man grin distantly, a smile pulling at his lips that twisted his words into new sounds, it felt as if icy water was trickling down his back in silky rivulets, as icicles shredded his chest & pierced his heart, making him shudder.

“I...I want to go to the tavern,” Jack stuttered out his request, suddenly unsure if this is what he truly wanted as the words left him, “I want to see what Peach was so scared off.” 

“Sure, boyo. Go ahead.” But there was no going back now.

~~==~~==~~==~~==

Jack wasn't sure what he was looking at as he stared in awe at the blur on the battlefield. The man flitted around the room, every bullet finding its mark, every hit & kick making contact with flesh. There was a practiced ease to his moves, as he grabbed a thuggish splicer swinging at him, & sent the beast flying at another group, before sending off a storm off bullets upon a leadhead. It was with an ironic sort of grace that he back flipped over another splicer, before his foot connected with her back, sending her crashing to the ground, & then his fist being driven through her skull with a wet, grating squelch & a loud, bone-chilling crack.

The Fighting McDonagh’s was an absolute mess, with tables shattered against walls, & viscera painting the floor a motley of blacks, reds & pinks. Bodies were strewn across counters & the remaining tables, some singed to a charred, unrecognisable black, others brutally dismembered to the point it was hard to tell which parts went where, & yet others so riddled with bullet holes that their innards were spilling out like limp snakes from a sack.

And in the centre of this carnage stood the most beautiful man Jack had ever seen. His eyebrows were creased above a pair of bright green eyes. With high cheeks bones & a small nose, paired with lips bent into a dangerous scowl. His close-cut hair was a rich, dark auburn, & the red splatters of splicer blood stood out against the dark plains of his terracotta brown cheeks. He was _gorgeous._

"Atlas?" Jack brought the radio closer to his lips, his eyes forever trained on the blood-splattered, beautiful stranger before him.

"Yes, boyo?" His guide asked, a hint of _something_ in his voice, that Jack couldn't quite place.

"I want _him."_ There was a chuckle from the other side, that blended in with the perpetual static.

"Well, he sure can hold 'is own against a few sploicers, eh?" Jack was interested. More than interested. He was _intrigued_ with the beautiful stranger. Is this that supposed monster that Wilkins warned him about? Well, if that was the case then he was both the beast & the beauty, tearing through splicers with claws wrapped in velvet, as if he was dancing beneath a spotlight.

Instinctly Jack took a step forward, enraptured by the stranger, stepping over the corpses of splicers laid out before him like a red carpet, coming closer & closer until he could almost touch the beautiful man.

When the stranger spun around, fresh blood dripping from the contraption strapped to his arm, Jack met the weapon with his wrench. They clanged against each other, like two swords of a different era pointing dangerously at the other man's throat.

"What sort of splicer are you?" Jack asked in awe.

The stranger barely reacted, his eyes widening for only a second before he schooled his expression into a scarred scowl, "Luckily for you, I'm only human. Something I'm sure you're not really used to, down here." Jack took in every aspect of his face so up close, committing him to memory, every gorgeous angle & every beautiful scar.

"Care to dance?"

"I don't dance." The stranger barked out through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing down into an arrousingly handsome expression. Yet that was a lie, because what else had Jack walked in on than the most beautiful of dances? Ah, but beautiful people spoke beautiful lies, & Jack knew better than to push.

“Would you like to come with me?” He asked, against all hope wishing that the man would agree, “I’m on my way to meet someone that could get us out of here.” The man took a moment to consider, the contraption on his arm forever pointing under Jack’s chin, dangerously close to the delicate skin of his throat. One move & he’d be dead, he knew.

“Fine. I want to get out of here as much as the next s’muck. And since you’re offering.” Jack held back a goofy smile. Stay cool, Jackie, stay cool. The man was still watching him as he pulled away & pocketed his guns, it wouldn’t do him good to scare him off.

“I’m Jack, by the way.”

The stranger was silent for another moment, eyeing Jack up & down with a scrutinising green gaze, “Booker. Call me Booker.”

With a nod, Jack finally let himself smile down at the other, “Welcome to the team, Booker.”


End file.
